Catching the Cub
by ZeemonLii
Summary: Spidy and Kraven clash and Peter comes out of it worse for wear. On the run and badly hurt with poison coursing through his veins, will Peter escape the hunter? Or will Kraven bag another trophy for his wall? Bad summary but I was trying not to give anything away. I hope you read anyway. Would love some reviews.
1. Chapter 1: Hunted

**Title:** Catching the Cub.

**Chapter 1:** Hunted

I've been stabbed. Oh god I've been stabbed!

Peter stumbled, sagging against the alley wall as he tried to catch his breath and not pass out from the pain that infused his body. He clutched at his wounded right shoulder with a moan unable to block out the agony inside him. Despite his best efforts to stop the bleeding, his life was still leaking slowly through his fingers, soaking into his costume.

The bleeding wouldn't stop. It just wouldn't stop. A sob escaped the boy. He tried to push himself away from the wall, but a sudden bout of dizziness made his slump back against it. He needed to move, to run. That man was still chasing him. He needed to- but he felt so sick.

God someone please help. The boy never imagined something could hurt this much. His shoulder burned like it was on fire and it wasn't the burn of just being wounded. It was the burn of infection, or worse, poison.

Peter shuddered, half at the thought and half at the heat that was blazing inside him. I need to move. But the world seemed to be spinning around him. The next thing the boy knew rain was splashing against his face as he lay on his back staring blearily up at the sky. He felt so hot. He couldn't breathe. Gasping for air, he rolled onto his side, curling around his pain. He just couldn't catch his breath.

A sudden scuffing sound startled Peter and he glanced up in alarm. God no. Please no. Not him. The boy desperately tried to pull himself up. He managed to get to his knees when a loud clattering made him flinch away and onto his feet, adrenaline washing hot through his blood. Please.

The brunet leaned heavily back against a dumpster, panting. He needed to move, but his body wouldn't obey him. There was more noise. Too close. He couldn't pinpoint- Something brushed against his leg. Fuck! He cried out in fear, jerking back against the dumperster hard enough that the screech of metal on concrete split the air. Then there was silence.

Peter listened hard, trying to quiet his panting breathes. There was nothing. He closed his eyes and listened harder. Nothing… Nooothin- There! His head snapping around just in time to see a furry tail whip around the alley corner and disappear.

A little uncontrollably giggle escaped Peter. Just a raccoon. Just a stupid fucking raccoon. The giggled turned into a hysterical laugh. He couldn't stop. He just laughed and laughed and laughed until he was gasping for breath, tears flowing from his eyes, mixing with the rain running down his face. He felt like he was suffocating. The cloth of his mask tightening around his throat. Clogging his mouth. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!

In a mindless panic the teen tore off his mask and flung it away, his instincts getting the better of him. He leaned forward, his hips braced against the dumpster behind him, and closed his eyes. Breathe. Just breathe.

Oh god. Peter wrapped his free arm around his aching belly, looking groggily up into the cloudy night sky as he panted. The cool rain felt good as it splashed against his feverish skin. He closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to focus on the feel of the rain rather than the pain and heat and panic coursing through his body. He knew he couldn't run anymore. He could barely stand. Fighting was definitely out of the question. The only thing left to him was to hide, but where? Dumpster?

Peter looked over his shoulder at the large metal canister at his back. No. It was already covered in his blood. The hunter would find him in seconds even if he had the strength left to burrow down into the trash, but did he have any other option? Peter dazedly looked around the little alley then his eyes locked onto the ground. Manhole. That would have to work.

It hurt to lever the heavy metal cover up and Peter almost gave up, but then with a hiss and a belch of foul air the lid came free and somehow he managed to slide it out of the way. He peered blearily down into the stench and darkness of the hole wondering if this was a good idea, but it wasn't like he really had a choice. At the very least the hunter would lose his scent in the filthy place.

Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wishing his head would stop spinning before lowering himself down into the warm, sticky air of the sewers. With only one working hand still slick with his own blood it was hard going. He tried to be careful as he moved down the ladder into the deeper darkness, but he slipped halfway down. He felt his stomach drop as his hand missed its mark, his fingertips brushing against the metal rung as he desperately tried to get a hold then he was falling through the air.

Peter slammed into the concrete below and just lay there for several minutes, unmoving. After awhile little disjointed thoughts slowly started to creep around the darkness of his mind again. He hurt so bad. He was so hot. He wanted to give up. He wanted to just lay there. He wanted to cry. He was so tired. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to be home. He wanted this to be a nightmare. He couldn't catch his breath. He didn't want to die.

Somehow Peter dragged himself to his feet again and, leaning one shoulder against the wall, took a staggering step forward. He was running on instinct more than anything now… and that last thought.

I don't want to die.

He took another step, steadier now.

I don't want to die!

He moved forward through the oily, black atmosphere with only the sound of sewage bubbling along beside him in a small canal and his own breathing to accompany him. The thick air was burning the back of his throat and making his eyes water, but he still moved forward. His body seemed to disconnect from his mind, moving on its own as his thoughts faded away until there was only one left.

Don't die.

Peter had no way of knowing how long he trudged on like that, mindlessly plodding one foot down in front of the other, but eventually his body gave out on him too. He was so exhausted. So hurt. He couldn't bring himself to lift another foot. To take another step. His legs trembled with strain as he sagged against the moist, smelly wall, his gasping breaths rattling in his throat. He pressed his forehead to the warm, wet cement with a moan. The hand clutching his wound still felt wet, but he couldn't tell if it was with his blood or just the rain soaked fabric of his costume he was feeling. It was too dark.

The boy dimly realized his body was moving on its own again, moving up the wall instead of forward. He was barely conscious as his hand, feeling blindly in the dark, found where the ceiling and wall met. His body started doing something again, but his mind was too tired to care what it was. Then there was a small safe place for him. He didn't know how or why, but it was what his instincts were telling him so he crawled in and curled up in a miserable little ball. A fraction of a second later he had fallen into unconsciousness.

Not so far away the hunter crouched by a splash of blood, a smile slashing across his lips. He knew his prey was close. Now it was time for the hunt to really begin.

**TBC...**

Okay I know I'm being a bad author. I know all of you out there who love Alien or Ancient or Innocent are probably thinking 'what the hell are you freaking doing?!' but, well, I've been nursing this fic idea for a while now and just figured out how I was going to start it so I figured I better get it down now before inspiration deserted me again. Please don't hate me and I really hope you all enjoy. Oh, and I love comments as always!


	2. Chapter 2: Hunter

**Chapter 2:** Hunter

Kraven crouched in the corner of a dusky alleyway, surveying the scene before him. The big man's fingers unconsciously kneaded at a bit of cloth between his hands – the mask he had found just moments before – as his sharp eyes picked out details in the dark. A feral grin spread over his lips at what he saw. His quarry was close. He could smell it. And wounded as it was, creature had to be slowing down. It would break soon. Perfect.

The man glanced down at the mask in his hands, his fingers spreading over the cloth so bits of red and black shown through them. It was quiet a prize. Now he needed to find the rest. Kraven stood and padded silently forward through the night as he followed the dark splashes of blood that had been spilt upon the ground. So close. There was no way his prey could run much farther in it's condition. He would find it soon.

The moon was the man's only light, but that was just fine with him. It shone big and bright this night, illuminating the wet drops of blood so they looked like puddles of liquid silver. Kraven greatly preferred the moon to the big city's glowing neon and constant noise. So distracting. But back here along the alleys and other secret spots of the city nature had started to take the night back. He could see plants peeping through cracks in the pavement and smell the sea in the wind even though the actual ocean was many miles off. It was almost quiet... for a city.

A soft, guttural rumble ahead of Kraven made the human hunter pick up his pace. The Russian could just make out the shape of his large, four-legged companion several yards in front of him where the golden beast had stopped to sniff the ground.

"What did you find Kijani?" Kraven said as he came up beside the large male lion and stopped to have a look at what had caught his friend's attention.

The lion's golden eyes flicked up at him, flashing in the dark, as a low growl rumbled from its throat. It's tail swished in the air once then it turned its eyes back to the ground and it pawed at the round metal disk in front of it.

"Ah yes…" Kraven crouched down, reaching for the uncovered manhole, but he paused. "But this is a tricky beast," he said, more to himself then to the lion as he let his gaze slid over the blood spilt on the ground and land on the dumpster.

"The trail is here too my friend," the man said, standing to walk cautiously towards the dumpster. The lion watched silently, it's eyes piercing the darkness, alert for any danger. Kraven was grateful for such a strong companion. Tracking on this particular hunt had been troublesome since the prey ran along rooftops and swung through the air of this city-jungle without a thought, breaking even the strongest of trails. Kijani had been vital help, following the creatures scent as the Russian himself could not in such a smelly place. Even so, Kraven still had his pride. This was his hunt, his prey. While the lion had been helpful, this would be Kraven's battle to finish in the end. He could feel his heart beat faster in excitement at the thought. As worthy as this prey had been all hunts had to come to an end, but this end would be glorious.

Reaching the side of the dumpster, Kraven grasped the lid in one hand, his other snaking down to grip the hilt of one of the knifes on his belt. He licked his lips, his feet sliding into a firmer stance as he readied himself for battle. He tensed throwing the lid open in one fluid motion.

"Ha!" he yelled, raising the knife, blood pounding in his ears, but there was nothing there. The lid of the dumpster hung in the air a second longer then slammed back against the brick wall behind it startling Kijani. The lion let a soft growl rumbling from his chest and he paced irritably around the manhole, working off a little nervous energy. The big cat had about as much love for the big city as Kraven did himself. The only reason either of them even set foot in such a deplorable place was this very special prey they now hunted. Once the chase was over they would away again to Africa with a quick stop in the wilds of Canada or wherever else Kraven took a fancy to while in the Northern Hemisphere. One of the perks of owning your own private jet was you dictated the schedule and no one else.

Kraven sighed, disappointment sour in his thoughts at the sorrowful lack of quarry in front of him as he re-sheathed his knife.

The lion huffed, impatient with his human companion's dawdling.

"Alright," Kraven waved a hand to his partner, his eyes still searching the smelly trash before him for any clues. "You were right. I just had to make sure."

Kijani huffed again and padded over to the human, curious despite himself. He pushed himself up onto his hind legs, his forepaws braced against the dumpster as he looked into it's open maw. The lion only took a second before he thrust itself away and circled back to the manhole.

"Okay. I'm coming," Kraven sighed, moving back to the lion's side. He knelt down, plucking a glow stick out of one of the many pockets on his belt as he went. In one swift motion he snapped the little stick and shook it to life before dropping it down into the darkness of the manhole.

The hunter watched the little orange light fall with a critical eye until it clattered onto the floor of the sewers several yards beneath him. The light barely illuminated the cavernous space, but Kraven had seen enough. The Russian quickly pulled another of the glow sticks out – this one on a looped cord – snapping it as he went and held the new light to the metal rungs leading down. They were wet with something and it wasn't just water. Kraven reached down to the first rung, dipping his finger in the liquid. He rubbed it between his fingers and was pleased. It was thick and red. Blood.

"Good work Kijani," Kaven said, wiping the blood upon his pants and ruffling the lion's mane affectionately with his other hand. "Now I must go alone," he added, throwing the glow stick's cord over his head so the light hung around his neck like a glowing pendent as he moving to lower himself into the darkness of the manhole.

The lion was rumbling it's discontent, pacing around the entrance of the manhole.

"Oh Kijani stop worrying," Kraven chuckled, patting his friends back once more before starting the long climb down. "I will be back with the prize soon."

Kraven licked his lips, feeling excitement build within him again as he descended farther into the sewers. This prey had certainly been a worthy one, giving him a long, hard chase, testing every skill he had, but tonight the hunt would end. The Spider-man would be his.

** TBC...**

YAAAAAAAAAAAY! I finally got something new up! Okay, okay. I know it's short... Okay REALLY short, but I really, really wanted to get _something_ up before I went of to no-electricity land again. Hope you like. Would love some reviews!


	3. Chapter 3: Hemorrhage

**Chapter 3:** Hemorrhage

Kraven landed at the bottom of the ladder, wincing as his heavy hiking boots thudded softly on the ground below him. He mentally cursed the city again for forcing him to wear shoes when he would have preferred to run around barefoot, but the unfortunate fact of broken glass, cement and metal forced his hand. He wasn't stupid enough to think he was immune to injury or infection. Oh, but how he missed the open savanna...

Kraven shook his head, forcing the grievance and pining from his mind as he focused on the task at hand, his eyes scanning the rank passage before him. The walkway continued in front of him with the ladder up to the surface at his back and a canal of murky sewer water to his left flowing through a grate and disappearing behind him. There was no way for his prey to go, but forward. That, at least, was a certainty. Blood smeared the wall to the Russian's right, shining black in the orange light of the glow stick. With the thick smell of the sewer overpowering anything else, the trail of blood would have to be his guide.

The man padded down the tunnel, holding the glow stick before him as he followed the trail. Even in this kind of darkness it was not hard to track the beast. There was so much blood. A long nearly solid smear decorated the wall, accompanied by smaller splatters ever so often on the ground. The path was so clear. Too clear.

Kraven paused and pressed his hand to the damp brickwork, thinking. The bloody streak along the wall barely reached his waist height. Even so he knew it had to have been caused by the creature, but surely it hadn't meant to leave such a clear trail. It knew he was hunting it so why...

Kraven frowned. He had gotten too wrapped up in the thrill of the chase. He needed to step back and think. If the creature had really been losing this much blood it would have been dead by now. Something he didn't understand was going on here and he did not like it. Had the creature found help? Was this a trap, a false trail? Had he, the hunter, become the hunted?

Lifting the glow stick a little higher, the Russian sighted along the wall, down the bloody line until it disappeared into the darkness. This was too easy. It had to be a trick of some sort.

Kraven crept forward, weary now as he followed the blood, but nothing happened until, suddenly, the trail ended. Undeterred, the man waked past the break, trying to see if the trail began again, but it never did. Confused, he retraced his steps. How could such a strong trail end so abruptly...? Unless it really was a false trail to begin with. Cursing under his breath, Kraven nearly stormed back to Kijani to start the hunt above ground again, but something made him pause. He hesitated at the end of the blood trail, studying the break. The smear cut off so cleanly then there was nothing else on the wall within the glow of his light but... there was also a large puddle of blood on the floor, stretching nearly a foot in diameter, right at the end of the end of the smear. Something that bled that much didn't just disappear.

Kraven bent down, dipping his fingers into the pool before bringing them up to his nose, trying to determine if the liquid was really blood. The stench of the sewers kept him from discerning the scent. He was about to take a chance and taste the liquid when a sudden drip smacked into his face, right under his left eye. The man startled, instinctively whipping the moisture away with the back of his hand and his eyes caught the dark streak that was left behind. He took his fingers and made a second streak under the first with the mystery liquid he had thought was blood. They matched.

Kraven glanced up into the darkness above him. Something was up there. He couldn't see it, smell it, or hear it over the bubbling of sewage, but he knew it was there.

In two steps Kraven was at the wall. A few more seconds and his nimble fingers had found handholds in the crumbling brick and he started to pull himself up. The hunter was cautious, taking the climb slow. He was positive the creature was down here in the sewers with him now, and he knew he had injured it, but he also knew a wounded beast was at it's most dangerous when cornered. There was no reason to rush this. One way or another the creature would be his tonight.

Reaching and pulling himself a few more feet up the wall Kraven suddenly found a handprint of blood right in front of his face. He glanced up, his eyes searching the wall... and then he saw another – a dark splash against the wall a couple yards above him at the edge of his little ball of light. The man quickly climbed up to it and found the print was exactly like the first, but oddly it was of a left hand not a right. Kraven thought he had only wounded the creature's right side, then the realization hit him. It was not that his prey was hurt on it's left side. The blood had come from it holding it's injured right shoulder. The Russians lips twisted in a slight smile, pleased with himself. He was not used to hunting humanoids, but now he knew he had to be on the right trail.

Despite himself, Kraven started scaling the wall faster, excitement hot in his blood. His heart raced and his breathing quickening in exhilaration at such a wonderful hunt. He hadn't felt like this in years. He slipped his knife out of it's holster as he moved, lifting it to clench it between his teeth, freeing his hand once more to climb. The knife he had stabbed the creature with before had been very special, nothing like the blade he now held in his mouth. That knife had a little something special worked into the blade. Something meant to make his prey sleep. Too bad his grip had slipped on the creatures blood when he had stabbed it and he lost that blade in its flesh. He hadn't found that knife tracking the beast, but he knew by the amount of blood the being was losing his prey had pulled it out and dropped it somewhere. That blade was probably lost to the city forever. Kraven sighed, allowing himself a second of sorrow over the loss of such a fine knife, before focusing on his prey again.

There. There was… something up there hidden at the edge of the darkness. Kraven noted the crumbling ceiling come into view, but his attention was locked on the thing in front of him. It... it looked like a grey blob at first then the details slowly began to solidify as he and his glow stick got closer.

Nestled in the seam where the wall and ceiling met was a cocoon. It looked incredibly natural in the city's rotten underbelly – something a spider might weave around its prey – except this one was big. Really big. Even man-sized. It would have to be once huge spider to catch such prey... or a colony. Kraven felt a flicker of fear flare up within him for a second, but he knew this formation wasn't from a gigantic arachnid hunting the New York sewer system, or even a colony of the creatures like what was sometimes found in his adopted home of Africa. The blood soaked into the strands of webbing gave it away.

The hunter licked his lips, adrenaline heightening his senses as satisfaction settled warm within his belly. Here it was finally. His strange, wonderful prey that had giving him such a chase. Kraven pulled himself up beside the cocoon, drawing the knife from between his teeth. It was almost sad to have to end this hunt, but the end had certainly come.

The man pressed the tip of the blade into the side of the cocoon feeling the taunt strands snap and give. He grinned wolfishly, pressing the knife in deeper...

**TBC...**

Okay... So it seems like this fic's chapters are just going to be shorter then my normal 10-to-15-pages-a-chapter epics like 'Alien,' but it seems to be working well so I'm not going to sweat it. I figure as long as I'm over 1000 words a chapter and the flow is good, I'm good. Plus it easier to tackle when I don't have a lot of time :) Anyway hope you like my little cliffy (hee, hee I'm so evil) and I would love some reviews.


	4. Chapter 4: Hollow

**Chapter 4:** Hollow

The moment had come. Kraven could feel it, but still he wanted the moment to last. He wanted to see the beast's face before he took it.

Pulling the knife free, the man slashed at the side of the cocoon with the blade. He repeated the motion over the same area, cutting shallowly, but making progress into the belly of the cocoon. He had no way of knowing how thick the webbing was around the creature and he didn't want to damage it further if he could help it. Not yet anyway.

The Russian slashed again then paused as the sides of the deep gash he had made in the cocoon peeled away from each other. There was a sudden snap as the webbing gave. Kraven grinned wider, almost manically. He could see the body now, dark against the white, held in place by a few final fragile layers of webbing that strained to hold the creatures weight.

Snap.

Blood dripped steadily down, wrung from the strands as they were pulled taunt by the weight.

Snap-

The knife clattered to the floor. Kraven stared in shock, his stomach dropping out of his former excitement as the creature's head lolled back, obviously unconscious or dead, out of the cocoon. The rest of the body was still held in place by the remaining webbing, but that face. He had seen it's face. It was a boy. A child. A cub.

Another snap, startled Kraven out of his shock as the body started to slip from the safe confines of the webbing. The man lunged forward as the strands finally gave, spitting open and the body plunged downward towards the unforgiving cement below.

The hunter grabbed the falling body out of the air with one arm, bracing for a weight that didn't come. The boy was light! He couldn't weight more than one, one-ten.

Kraven hefted the body into a better position, his left arm wrapped around the boy's waist as his right clung to the wall. The teen grunted in pain at the new position and Kraven felt the unconscious boy stir for a second then go limp as he fell into unconsciousness again.

The Russian felt numb, unsure of what to do now. He hadn't expected the Spider-man to be so... so young... Or so human. He thought the creature hid itself behind a mask and covered its body with cloth completely for a reason. With its strength and speed the hunter had never imagined it would be a human. It had talked like a human and walked like a human, but Kraven knew from experience that did not mean it was human. He had met many things in his life that seemed to be human, but where not, but this… it was just a boy. A dying boy…

Kraven carefully slid down the wall with the boy in tow, jumping the last few yards to land softly on the ground. He immediately laid the child down, feeling like he was doing something bad by just touching the teen, and sat back staring as the kid moaned softly then settled, breathing hard.

This couldn't be right... But there was no mistaking it. This boy had been his prey. The child was still wearing the ragged costume remains of the costume. Shit.

Uncertain, the Russian leaned over the body, his hands in his lap as he looked over the prone figure in front of him. Could the boy really be human?

Kraven frowned, feeling sick as his eyes lingered on the ragged wound in the kids shoulder. It was obviously still bleeding. The ground was already wet with news smears of the red stuff. The child couldn't afford to lose any more. His breathing was already too labored for the man's liking as it was.

With a new goal in mind, Kraven scooped his knife up off the floor as his other hand fished a roll of bandages out of his belt. He knelt over the boy, lowering the knife to cut the dirty costume away from the wound.

The man paused when his patient gasped, feeling the dried blood that had plastered the cloth to the skin around the wound pull at the injury. The boy yelped as Kraven tried again and jerked violently away, his eyes blinking open.

Kraven froze as the kid did the impossible and blinked several more times, obviously conscious again despite the tranquilizer coursing through his blood. Whether the child had something in his eyes or if they just weren't focusing well the Russian didn't know. What he did know was the way the teen's eyes widened with fear as soon as they landed on him. Crap.. Kraven could think of nothing he could do or say that might put the boy at ease so he tried for something simple.

"Uh... Hi?"

The boy opened his mouth and screamed. Really screamed. It was a sound full of terror and pain and it made the man wince despite himself. No matter what the boy really was, he certainly feared like a human.

In retrospect, Kraven didn't know what other response he could have expected. He must have looked like some kind of demon to the boy - his face lit with an orange glow from beneath, a knife glinting in his hand, blood slick on his skin... not the best first impression, or even the best third impression. Dammit.

"Now boy-" Kraven started to say something he hoped would have sounded reassuring (even though he wasn't sure what it would have been), but the kid lashed out instinctively, his kick catching Kraven right in the gut.

The hunter folded, the air rushing from his lungs. He tried to gasp, his hands clutching his belly. It had been a long time since anyone had managed to knock the wind out of Kraven the Hunter. He cursed himself as he finally managed to suck in a lungful of air, anger seeping into his thoughts, but when he glanced up at the boy again his anger quickly turned to pity.

The child was trying to crawl away, but he was too weak to get up onto all fours. His body wouldn't listen to him even though he was struggling so desperately hard. All he could manage was a sort of slide-flop motion as he held his wounded arm protectively to his front and even that was not long lasted. The kid had only managed a few feet before his strength gave out and he collapsed, sprawling on the filthy ground with a whimper.

Kraven could see the boy shivering even from where he was and his brow furrowed in concern. The Russian took one more deep breath, relishing the ability to use his lungs again then slowly moved towards the kid.

The child was immediately aware of his approach, but all he could manage was a whimper, tears dripping down his cheeks. He was obviously still terrified, but too weak to do anything about it.

"Easy boy," Kraven said softly, holding his hands out in front of him in a universal sign of peace. "I'm not going to hurt you."

The kid didn't seem to take any comfort from those. Instead his shoulders started jerking as if he was struggling to push himself up, but his limbs just wouldn't obey.

"Whoa, whoa," Kraven hurried to kneel by the kid's side, reaching down to halt the struggles that were not only sapping the kid's strength, but also quickening flow of the precious little blood the teen still had in his body.

"Calm little cub," Kraven whispered, gently brushing a lock of hair out of the kid's eyes to feel his forehead for fever.

The boy cringed away from the touch, his tired, sunken eyes locked on Kraven's face.

The Russian tried to smile, feeling suddenly very old. "If you keep struggling-ah!"

Sudden pain shot through Kraven's forearm making him yelp in surprise. He tried to pull him arm away from whatever was hurting it, but the limb seemed to be weighted down by something. It took the hunter a moment more to realize the boy had bitten him. He glanced down to see the child still had teeth sunk into the flesh of his arm, unwilling to let go even as the rest of the kid's body lay limp on the floor too weak to move.

"What the fuc- What are you doing?! Let go!" Kraven demanded, trying to pull away. "I'm trying to help you!"

The boy just blinked at him, his too-wide eyes showing white all around, his pupils so dilated with pain and fear his honey-brown irises had turned black. Kraven realized then the kid was not comprehending a word he was saying. The child only saw threat and reacted. Kraven had seen men dragged to the edge like this before in one battle or another. To that place where thought disappeared in the face of danger and fear and pain, leaving only the desperate need to survive behind. The boy was no more than that now. Kraven could see it in his eyes. His empty, hollow eyes. The mind was gone. Only instinct remained.

And Kraven knew he was the cause of it... The man felt shame at the thought. He had not set out to harm a child. No, he had thought he was hunting some great beast that was trying to pass as human, but this...

Kraven closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly through his nose as he tried to shut out the pain. The boy was still very strong for being so close to death. The little human teeth dug into his arm hurt a lot, but that was not what mattered. Kraven needed both arms if he was to help.

"Boy I need you to let go," the man said gently, trying to pull his arm away from the kid's mouth. The teen just bit down harder.

Kraven grunted, feeling his flesh tear further. He let out a deep sigh, trying to close himself off from the new pain. "Calypso give me patience," he whispered softly, almost like a prayer, before gritting his teeth and reaching over with his free hand to feel for the hinge in the kid's jaw. The boy immediately started growling at the touch and the rumbles just got louder as Kraven pressed down on that soft spot, trying to force the teen's mouth open, but it just didn't work. The teen held on like a little terrier even though the Russian could feel the bone start to creak and give under the pressure of his fingers. The man sighed, easing up when it was obvious that approach wasn't going to work. He didn't was to break the child's jaw and clearly the boy wasn't going to let go that easily. The poor kid was putting everything he had left into holding onto what he must have thought of as 'his attacker's' arm. The man knew fighting the boy would just make him hold on stronger, putting all he had in this one last act of defiance. Kraven could have made the teen scream and in doing so the kid would have to open his mouth, letting the arm go, but the man didn't want to hurt the child. He doubted the boy's body would be able to take any more damage and survive, but what else would work?

Kraven let out a soft huff, quietly appraising the panting child beside him. The Russian wasn't much of a fatherly sort... but he did know how to care for a wounded animal. He had been the one who had nursed Kijani back to health when he found the little cub left for dead by his pride after being kicked in the head by an antelope. Kraven knew if he could endure raising a baby lion and all the bites and scratches that came from that, he could do this too. First the child had to feel safe.

With a few creative contortions, which allowed the boy to keep a hold of his arm, the man managed to gather the wounded teen in his lap. The child was alarmed at first, but quickly quieted as Kraven brushed his free hand through the kid's hair, whispering soft nothings meant to calm as he held the child close to his chest. The teen's eyes drooped as he relaxed into the warmth and comfort of another body. Soon enough Kraven felt the grip on his arm ease then let go completely.

The Russian breathed a sigh of relief, then was startled when the boy tried to push himself up, but his legs collapsed and he fell back against Kraven's chest again with a cry, clutching his wounded arm.

"Easy kid," the man said gently, letting himself wrap his arms around the small, trembling body before him.

The boy pressed his face into the Russian's chest in response and simply started bawling, all of the emotional stress of the day being violently expelled in a rush or tears and sobs.

Oh god. This was too much. Kraven had never felt so deplorable in his whole life. The man stared straight ahead of him, his back tense as a board, having no clue what to do now. He was not the sort of person others used as a shoulder to cry on, but the boy...

Kraven forced himself to relax and cradled the child's body, rocking him gently. "Shh boy. Shh. It's okay."

The teen quieted quickly and for a second Kraven thought he was doing a good job of comforting the boy, but then he realized the child had passed out.

Kraven leaned back, holding the limp body out before him and was shocked to find he was now covered in the boy's blood. The kid let out a low moan, his breath rattling disturbingly in his chest. The child was far too pale and clammy for the man's taste, sweat glistening unhealthily on his skin, turning his brown hair nearly black . Kraven could feel the fever burning within the kid even now. The boy's condition was just getting worse.

The kid gave a sudden weak cough, snapping Kraven out of his horrified daze. The man shook his head, knowing simply bandaging the boy's wounds wouldn't be enough anymore.

The Russian stood, lifting the child in his arms and started down the tunnel as fast as he could without jostling the boy too much. He moved faster, registering how hard the teen was struggling to breath. The child was fading so fast. Too fast.

Kraven picked up speed until he was running full tilt down the tunnel, the boy drifting further away from life with ever second that passed.

No. This wasn't right. This couldn't be right! The kid couldn't just die like this. Not like this.

"Kijani! KIJANI!" Kraven roared up the passageway as he ran, straining his ears for a reply.

His heart seemed to stop as he waited, panting for breath, his legs pumping under him as the seconds stretching until they felt like hours then the lion roared back.

Relief flooded into Kraven's at the sound. "Kijani get Calypso!"

"I'm here love."

Startled, Kraven whirred at the gentle voice, the limp boy held tightly in his arms, but his face softened into a relieved smile as he saw the beautiful women now standing before him, seeming so out of place in the dank and disgusting sewers. "Calypso," he breathed, holding the wounded child out for her to see.

The strange woman who had appeared from nowhere walked to stand beside the hunter, her fingers gently trailing over the boy's chest and belly as she stared at him as if in a trance. Her hand finally came to rest over the wound in his shoulder and she frowned ever so slightly, making the man mentally wince at her displeasure.

"This will not do."

**TBC...**

Well the chapter's a little longer this time. It also might be a little rough but I hope you like it anyway and, as always, I love reviews.


	5. Chapter 5: Her

**Note:** Looking at a review (thank you so much for all the wonderful comments by the way) for the last chapter I realized I must specify that the Calypso in this story is not the crazy voodoo priestess in marvel comics or the doctor from TAS, but is rather based on the Calypso in The Spectacular Spiderman cartoon with a little extra personal twist you'll figure out soon enough. The Kraven is also based on The Spectacular Spidy but without the whole mutant lion, change-y thing he gets when he takes that serum. All in all this is supposed to be a first meeting so it should be tons of fun.

Also, unless I state it otherwise, I think of peter as getting 'bitten' when he is 13 or 14 right before or starting high school on that school field trip so he's right in his early teens in this fic.

Oh and by the way for those that don't know Kraven's real name is Sergei Kravinoff. It will come to play in this chapter.

**Chapter 5:** Her

Peter dimly felt himself being lifted, his body drifting with the movements of another, but he was too faint to process anything more then that. A soft groan escaped his lips as his newfound consciousness brought along with it a fiery throbbing in his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes, to see who was holding him and where they were going, but his eyelids just fluttered weakly, the small effort draining his energy.

The next thing Peter knew he was being lain down on something padded. He could smell leather. God, it was so strong it made him want to gag. He turned his face away, gasping for fresh air, but even that little motion made him feel dizzy and weak. His head was swimming. Hot. He was so tired, his eyelids seemed so heavy he couldn't even think to try opening them. He just wanted to sleep.

Distantly, Peter heard the sound of an engine turn over and the seat below him began to vibrate softly. The boy realized suddenly he was in some kind of car, but he was too hurt and tired to make himself care. The vehicle shifted with the weight of people getting in then doors slammed near Peter, but still he didn't care. He could sense the presence of people around him, but his senses didn't alarm him so he sighed and relaxed into the soft padding beneath him. He was so tired. So very tired.

Voices above Peter brought him back from the grey place he had been flaoting in. It was a slow and painful return, every part of his body demanding attention through throbbing aches and sharp agonizing stabs, but he still managed to pull himself back. He strained to hear, curious of the identity of the people who had saved him? Kidnapped him? He wasn't sure anymore. But all the listening made the pounding in his head worse. He could hear the words, but he couldn't make himself comprehend them. He tried to remember if he had hit his head, if somehow he had hurt his brain when suddenly the words snapped into focus.

"… wasn't supposed to… swear Calypso I didn't know…" The gruff, male voice said desperately, almost begging.

Calypso? Peter's brow furrowed. Who was Calypso?

"Shh. He is still alive Sergei," a soft, very female voice said in return. "But very weak. He has lost so much."

Who the hell was Sergei? Peter thought. Are they talking about me? I've lost something? What have I lost? Peter had been listening for five seconds and already he was confused.

Peter felt a gentle hand brush through his hair, scattering his thoughts. He moaned and stirred slightly before settling again with a sigh. He wondered who was touching him. Why it felt… it felt so nice. The hand came back, stroking his cheek and he tried to press into the touch, tried to make it linger just a little longer, but his wounded shoulder started screaming at the motion and he froze, breathless with the pain.

"Calm child," the woman said in that beautiful voice again, stroking his feverish forehead as he gasped for air. Peter didn't know how it was possible, but everywhere she touched he felt better, cool against his feverish skin. His headache lessened enough so that he could almost think again. She was so close. He could sense her. So close. She smelled like rain. Oh god. I'm going insane. He felt like he was burning up. So hot. The heat was melting him. Killing him. Then her words cut through the fires within him, bringing him back with a gasp.

"Oh this one is strong Sergei." Peter heard the smile in her voice and felt her fingering in his hair again. It was so good. So comforting. He never wanted to stop. He could listen to her forever. Feel her forever. God what is happening to me?!

"He is fighting the illness even now," the female voice continued to say. "So strong."

Who was she? Dammit who was she?! Peter wanted to see her. He wanted to see so desperately. Tears of despair escaped from behind eyelids too heavy to open. Why did he have to be so weak?!

"Is he really just a boy Calypso?"

The man's deep voice rumbled again, startling Peter and the boy suddenly felt normal again. Yes, he was hurt and feverish, but he wasn't so utterly obsessed with the strange woman he knew was sitting so close to him. It was almost like a spell had been broken… The conversation above him continued before the teen could get too wrapped up in thoughts of magic.

"Seems so."

"You know what I mean." The man sounded exasperated.

The woman chuckle, her hands stroking though Peter's hair again. "He is a bit… changed but certainly still human."

Someone else – it had to be the man, the Sergei – touched Peter's wounded shoulder and he flinched with a startled cry. It hurt. Even the softest touch on his shoulder hurt. He couldn't understand how something could feel this bad. He felt hot and nauseous on top of the pain. Somehow it was even worse than he had felt when he had gotten shot for the first time.

The hand was quickly snatched away from Peter's shoulder at his cry and the boy heard a hiss of breath. "His bleeding still hadn't stopped. Can you…?"

"I will see what I can do," the woman conceded. "I certainly cannot turn away from one who struggles so hard to live," she added and Peter felt her tousle his hair in an affectionate sort of way even though he was having trouble following the conversation again.

"He is very deserving." The almost loving way those last words rolled off the women's tongue was disconcerting, but Peter didn't have time to think about it. Or the pain tolerance. His head was killing him!

Peter sensed sudden movement around him. The woman's touch disappeared drawing the boy's attention and he forced himself to drag his eyes open, trying to see what was going on, but that was a very big mistake. His eyes felt sticky with grit and sleep and the moment they were open, light stabbed through his brain like a knife. He jerked in surprise and pain and snapped his eyes closed again, but the damage had already been done. He groaned as the pounding in his head came back with a vengeance, and he rested his good arm across his face, trying to shield himself from the light. God he was going to be sick.

Peter's hand felt something sticky in his hair and, confused, he let his fingers search the back of his head. The distraction alleviated a bit of the pain for a moment, but then he winced as his fingertips brushed a sore bump and he suddenly remembered falling and hitting his head. I must have a concussion, Peter thought grimly. He could feel the dried blood in his hair. Blood...

Peter's mind suddenly caught up with the conversation that had been happening above him. His shoulder. He was still bleeding. Shit.

Peter's free hand moved, gently feeling for the stab wound in his shoulder. He knew he had found it when his fingertips brushed something slick. Blood. Too wet. It wasn't… He swallowed hard, letting his hand hold the bandaged wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding. It was all that he could do. He could still feel the blood seeping through his fingers. God what it must be doing to the upholstery. A little giggle bubbled up inside Peter's mind at the notion, but he was too tired to voice it. Then his thoughts turned to the serious matter at hand. Why am I still bleeding? Why wasn't it healing? Then he remembered: poison.

Peter sensed movement close by again and whimpered softly. Where these people the ones who hurt him? He couldn't remember who-

A soft touch on the boy's shoulder startled him. He jerked back with a fearful yip, his thoughts getting the better of him. What did they want with him? Where they going to kill him? Torture him? What? What was their motive? He pressed himself back into the seat, panting, fear join the nausea that was twisting in his stomach.

"Shh, easy boy," the women said softly, her hand gently stroking his hair in that impossibly soothing way again. "We're not going to hurt you," she explained. "You are having a bad reaction to a drug... It's damaging you more than it should, keeping you from healing. You must lie still and save your strength."

Peter moaned in repose, not really comprehending what she had said, and tried to open his eyes again. He wanted to see the wound. To see what was wrong. And to see her. He weakly tried to lift his head, his eyes opening to bare slits, but all he could see was white before the pain from the light overcame him and he had to close his eyes again. A soft sob escaped his lips. He felt so dizzy and sick and the horrible, horrible throbbing in his head added to his nausea. He felt so bad he wanted to pass out again. He wondered if this was what dying felt like. He didn't register the gasp of surprise when he had opened his eyes until her gentle hands were caressing his cheeks again.

"Show me your eyes child," she whispered, her fingered gently whipping away the tracks of tears he hadn't even realized he had let fall.

He moaned, half-heartedly trying to pull away from her grasp. He couldn't open his eyes. He didn't want to hurt anymore, but, god, he wanted to see her. A sob escaped his lips. He just couldn't.

"Shh," she soothed. "It's okay little one. Don't worry. I will keep away the pain."

Peter gasped as he felt her palm pressed fully onto his forehead. It was so cold. He hadn't realized how very hot he had become. Now it felt like his brain was numb. It didn't really feel good, but the pain was gone for the moment. He cracked his eyes open just a bit and blinked when there was no accompanying pain, opening his eyes fully.

The light was still bright and made his eyes water. He couldn't see clearly through all the tears, but he still could see her or rather a very blurred image of her. Dark, chocolaty skin. Even darker hair. And a sweet smile. That was all he could make out. Still he knew she had to be gorgeous.

"So beautiful," she whispered, stroking his cheek. "You're soul."

Peter opened his mouth to speak but the words caught in his throat. He wasn't sure what he would have said, but the dry, ragged coughing that followed wasn't it.

"Oh dear." Peter heard the woman say sorrowfully, her free hand coming to rest on his chest and her other continued to lie across his forehead. The teen felt horrible for making her sad even as pain started to creep back into his flesh, beginning at his shoulder and washing over his body in a horrible wave. He wanted to tell her it was okay, that he was fine, but he couldn't stop coughing. The hoarse breaths were torn from his body, making his dry throat burn.

"Shhh boy. Relax." He dimly felt her hand stroking through his hair as slowly the coughing fit eased then stopped, leaving his gasping for air.

Peter sighed, his eyes blinking open once before falling closed in exhaustion. He was so tired. His eyelids so heavy he couldn't bear to keep them open anymore. Even so he felt a sort of peace inside him at having seen her finally.

The teen felt soft lips brush his forehead. "I'm sorry," her voice whispered, seeming to caress him through the darkness of his closed eyes. "I should not have pushed you so. Sleep now child. I promise you will be safe."

Peter felt a strange pull on his shoulders, but mental pull rather than a physical on. Then he was falling back into darkness. He relaxed, knowing he would be safe. She had said so and so he embraced his unconsciousness and the painlessness that came with it, letting it suck him down until he felt no more.

**TBC...**

Oh I'm so happy I managed to get another chapter up. I hope you like it. I might get another chapter or two up in the next couple days, but soon I will end up somewhere without electricity so I won't be able to update for awhile, but be assured this fic isn't abandoned, just on hiatus. Please, please review. I love hearing from you all.


	6. Chapter 6: Heat

**Chapter 6:** Heat

Heat brought Peter back to consciousness, an unbearable searing heat that suffused every cell in his body with molten lava. He gasped awake, his eyes blinking open, but refusing to focus. He clutched at his throat feeling his chest tighten. He couldn't catch his breath. It was so hot. So hot it was suffocating. Sweat soaked his clothes, or was it all blood? He didn't know anymore. He couldn't think-

A gentle hand rested itself against his forehead, cool against his burning sink, the cold catching his attention.

"You weren't supposed to wake child," Calypso whispered softly and he remembered Her. Her voice, Her touch... but he hurt so much. It wasn't enough anymore. She couldn't keep the fever inside him from burning him, melting him. Oh god it was so hot. He couldn't breathe.

Cool fingers trail over his hot skin, circling the wound in his shoulder. "I am sorry for this discomfort child. You shouldn't have woke. Go back to sleep."

Peter's eyes drooped, suddenly feeling so heavy. So tired. He realized dimly his head was resting on someone's lap. He could feel the warmth of another's body and somehow it was comforting even though it added heat to his already burning body. He could smell Her again. So sweet... sweet rain. It made him so sleepy. So very tired.

No! Peter jerked in panic, realizing there was a foreign influence in his mind, trying to force him to sleep. No. Stop!

He felt the influence- Her influence trying to force him to be calm again, to sleep, but he wouldn't let it. He struggled fiercely against it, his instincts yelling at him never to let anyone control him again, not after Venom.

GET OUT OF MY HEAD! The tension inside Peter snapped suddenly at his mental shriek and disappeared, leaving him drowning in heat again, but mercifully alone in his head.

The boy sobbed in relief, having become mortally terrified of having anything, but himself in his own mind. He was so relieved he did not here the gasp of surprise and pain following the broken connection.

"He's stronger than I thought."

God he was so hot and hurt, the pounding in his head so loud he couldn't hear the words around him anymore. Peter just knew that she had spoken again, but was too sick to care. So sick it felt like his head was going to explode at any moment. God, please just stop this. Let me pass out. Let me sleep. Just stop this. PLEASE.

Peter's sobs of relief turned to tears of pain as his burning body tortured him from within. There was nothing he could do, but suffer. He felt so bad it wouldn't even let him fall unconscious anymore. Oh god. He whimpered, pressing his face into the lap his head was resting on as sobbed. Oh god, please. Please. Help me.

Peter started as a hand clasped his good shoulder, but then he just moaned and went limp again as even the slightest moment made his headache even worse.

"I didn't know he would feel it this strongly," the man said, but Peter was passed fallowing words. All he knew was he was hot and sick and was going to throw up very, very soon. Hell he wanted to throw up because maybe, just maybe after that he would feel a little better.

"I know my love."

It was Her speaking again and Her gentle touch came with it. Peter sighed, any relief now feeling like the only thing in the world that mattered.

"It is a part of his change," she continued to say as he whimpered against her desperate for more of anything that would make him feel even the slightest bit better. "We need to get the anti toxin into him now or he's going to burn up."

Peter felt a gentle push on his un-wounded shoulder then he was lying on his back again, gasping at the air above him, suddenly unable to catch his breath. It had nothing to do with the position and everything to do with the fever burning him inside. Then Her touch was back, comforting... until he realized she was now firmly holding his arms. Someone else was kneeling beside him, touching his lips. It made no sense. He tried to pull away, but they wouldn't let him. Restraint brought fear crashing through him. He let out a panicked cry, kicking out, but connecting with nothing. The man – he knew it had to be the man – took advantage of the moment and slide a disgusting finger into his mouth. Shocked, Peter tried to bite but he was too slow. He winced as something thick and slimy and AWFUL was left on his tongue. He tried to spit it out, but a hand covered his mouth. He tried to bite again, but his body simply wasn't listening to him. The shock of the disgusting taste in his mouth was too much. His stomach roiled, threatening to truly revolt if he didn't get rid of the taste now. He could feel the slime melting with the heat of his mouth and trickling down his throat, leaving a horribly bitter grit behind. He gagged so hard on the taste it brought fresh tears to his eyes, but they still wouldn't let him spit it out. He sobbed, tears streaming down his face at this new torture. He shook his head, trying to get away but they wouldn't let him. There was nothing he could do.

A gentle touch on Peter's cheek from a calloused hand startled him and he jerked away from it scared.

"I'm sorry boy," the man's voice rumbled softly. "But you must take it."

Peter shook his head in defiance. He didn't know what they were trying to feed him, but he didn't trust it. Not like this. He wrenched his body, struggling as hard as his weakened form could, but his kicks found nothing but air and the delicate hands wrapped around his wrists were stronger than they should have been, easily holding him in place. His body tired all too quickly, his aching muscles shaking with the strain. Tears of fear and frustration welled up and flowed from his eyes as soft whimpers of distress fell unbidden from his mouth. There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all. He was trapped.

Then the woman's voice came again, soft and sweet, trying to coax him into submission. "Swallow child," she whispered, her voice like a silk ribbon caressing his burning body. "It will help. I promise. Just swallow and it will be okay."

Peter tried to shake his head, but he couldn't hold out any longer. It tasted too bad. Saliva was flooding his mouth, making it hard to breathe. He had to do as she said or he was going to choke. He closed his eyes, tears splashing down his face and swallowed. The slimy stuff slid down his throat like a slug, leaving a horrible trail of disgusting behind. He retched at the taste, but it stayed down.

"Good boy," a deep voice murmured, than the hand was taken from his mouth, leaving him gasping for air. He automatically licked his lips then winced as the motion just mashed the lingering horror into his taste buds further. It was so god awful bad. A soft sob escaped him, then he felt his arms being let go too. He crossed them defensively over his chest, his good hand clutching his wounded shoulder. He felt so nauseated and hot after his struggled. His shoulder was burning fiercely and his head pounding horribly, the migraine making the lights too bright. He moaned, miserable and squeezed his eyes even tighter shut against the world as tears rolled down his face. Why is everything so mean to me? It's not fair.

Calypso was running her hands through his hair and murmuring to him softly again. "Shh little brave one. You're alright. You're alright."

Something new was placed to Peter's lips and he flinched away from it, hiding his face in the warm body next to him.

"It's just water," the women's voice said, reassuringly. "Drink."

He just whimpered.

"Drink boy," she repeated in a firmer voice and Peter suddenly felt compelled to do as told. The influence gentler this time, a suggestion not a command and he gave into it, too weak to struggle anymore. He lifted his head, allowing his lips to be guided to the glass then the glorious liquid splashed over his tongue. It was heaven, washing away the lingering slime and soothing his sore throat. He clutched weakly at the cup, gulping greedily with an undying thirst that came from loosing copious amounts of blood.

"Easy there boy," the woman said, tipping the glass up a bit to force him to slow down. "You don't want to choke."

Her logic was annoying. He was so thirsty. He almost growled, but then caught himself. She was right after all. He mentally sighed and slowly sipped at the rest of the water until it was gone, than relaxed back in Her lap, half-conscious. He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. He let his eyes drift close.

The next thing Peter felt was the pressure against his wounded shoulder lessened, but he was too exhausted to open his eyes. He heard the snip of scissors and knew the bandages were being undone. He could feel the wet cloth still slick with his blood being pulled away from his skin and moaned as the cool air on his open wound made him shiver. Then words came again. Alarming words.

"Hold him down. This will hurt."

Something… Something cold and slimy was being slathered on his wounded shoulder, making him flinch. It started to tingle and his tried to pull away as strange words were mumbled on the air.

"Don't-" he gasped out then choked on the words as his shoulder burst into flame. It was agony. So hot, so horrible for a second he just froze. It felt like a burning brand had been pressed to his skin and was searing its way into his flesh. He wanted to run, to get away but he couldn't get himself to move. It hurt so bad. He opened his mouth to scream, but the darkness took him, pulling him down into unconsciousness, and, mercifully, he felt nothing more.

**TBC...**

So this will probably be my last update for a bit since I'm going AWOL for a little while, but I hope you have enjoyed my little spree of postings. And, as you know, I love reviews so please, PLEASE feel free to comment.


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